Progression
by fluffyflaffy
Summary: My own continuation of "the nineteenth hole is a shallow grave" with how our lovable characters progress from friends to lovers. Rating for minor racism, a little make out and fluff. FINGRID.


Forum: Fillmore

Episode: nineteenth hole is a shallow grave

Genre: Friendship - Romance

Pairing: Fillmore and Ingrid

Rating: T

Episode resume: This episode one of the character defining episodes. The friendship between Fillmore and Ingrid is strengthened by the x middle school mini golf open. Here we see that Fillmore has a talent for mini golf, and another glimpse into his delinquent past.

By going over the episode, almost frame by frame, I noticed an opportunity to turn the friendship around to romance.

Cheese out

Fluffyflaffy

Story:

The unique styled rap music was blaring at full power, yet again. Fillmore was lounging on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Although unlike a few days ago, he was smiling now. Fillmore smiling always put a smile on her own face.

He saved the open, and overcame his past. Her best friend did a very noble thing indeed.

She was standing in the doorway. The room was spacious and pleasantly comfortable.

With a pang of guilt, which dissipated within seconds, she thought it looked like a stereotypical "black boy" room. However, she knew, he was anything but stereotypical.

That was nothing more but pointless labels, which she had heard tons of, directed at herself. She could not care less about colour or stereotypes. He was her best friend. Simple as that.

He looked at Ingrid as she was standing with a smile of her own. He gave a cocky grin, as he turned off the stereo.

 **"** **Something on ya mind Third?"**

Now that he had acknowledged her presence, she moved to sit on his bed. She gave him a questioning look. She knew he would get the jist of it.

Even after that short time they had been friends, and partners, they had already developed a near telepathic contact. This bond had, on more than one occasion, helped them get out of trouble.

 **"** **Righted ma wrongs. Thanks to you. Now it's like irons been lifted from ma shoulders Ingrid"** he answered the unspoken question.

She rewarded him with an appreciative glance and a small smile. He knew perfectly well, Ingrid was not the type of person to recklessly throw around praise of any kind.

That only made this one all the more important. He had done the right thing, in returning the trophies he had scammed the mini golf club off.

That was now confirmed by Ingrids smile. A smile he had come to depend on within the many months of their partnership.

This whole mini golf ordeal had been hard on him, and his conscience. He had always felt bad about what he did as a delinquent. But he never had the strength to confront it.

Now, with the forceful push from his best friend, he had righted the wrong.

These last few days had also frightened him for a whole other reason. Ingrid had stopped smiling at him.

Every time he had clamped down, and refused to talk, he had been met with those scrutinizing gazes of hers.

They had hurt almost as much as the memories themselves, if not more.

That had been quite the shocker to the otherwise calm and collected Cornelius C. Fillmore.

 ** _"_** ** _ohh, I didn't know I was dealing with tortured Fillmore today. My mistake. It's cool. Late"_** and then she walked away with a clear scowl. He signed up for the tournament alright, but that disgusted look he got. That stung. It was as if he could read her mind in those seconds. _I thought I was your friend Fillmore. Friends talk. It hurts, but it helps._ Probably followed by some fancy saying like: no pain, no gain.

 ** _"_** ** _remember what you told Cossie? If something is wrong, the only way to make it right, is to talk about it. Well Cossie chose to quit instead, he punked out. Just. Like. You. I'll se you later Fillmore. Cuz I know I won't talk too you later."_** She had said. First she looked angry. Angry that he was so pathetic. But once she got to the later parts, she was sad, and hurt.

Her best friend did not let her in. He knew that was hurting her.

And now. All was fine. She was sitting in his room with a contend smile on her face. He only hoped she had yet to learn how to read faces.

Otherwise she would surely pick up on the emotions on his face. Ever since the tournament, he had barely come to terms with his own feelings for his cute partner.

Those, "things", had been there for a long time, he just stubbornly denied them. Not anymore.

He was in love with Ingrid Third. His partner, in crime, justice and friendship.

He had just a few days ago accepted that. He was not ready to come clean with those things. Too much at stake.

And even then, he was an ex delinquent. He had no idea how to treat a girl. Okay maybe Penny Madrid. But that wacko did not count in his book.

And there was also one other thing, in the back of his mind. Gnawing at his insides. Something dark and evil, he did not wish to confront.

No matter what, he was not fishing up those memories. They had put a dent in the walls he and his old pal, Sonny Lombard had put up around themselves.

What was the only other thing that connected the two guys, other than a shared past of crime?

Skin colour.

He almost winced at the thought. He looked Ingrid in the eyes, and realized she had not seen his reaction to his own thoughts.

 **"** **Ya came for a reason, or ya just love looking at me?"** he asked with equal part flirt and seriousness.

 **"** **Nothing big Fillmore. Just needed to know you went through with it. You did"**

Before Fillmore could respond, she followed it up, with three simple words which made his stomach do a backflip.

 **"** **Proud of you"**

He only smiled in response to those words. They were back on track. The friendship had been repaired. Back to normal.

Unless of cause he ran his big mouth and started babbling about unrequited feelings.

She had picked up on his distracted thoughts.

Their telepathic mind reading had its limits though.

She could see, he had thought about some things, probably from his past. And they hurt him, but she could not identify the cause.

Her dilemma was now, should she use the momentum from these past few days, and push for it? Or should she be content to let him handle his own problems?

One second afterwards, she had realized that was a rhetorical question.

It did not need to be answered. Friends push each other, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurt.

 **"** **What's bugging ya Fillmore? Let me in"**

She honestly did not want to intrude into his thoughts. But she also knew, she would want him to do the same for her.

He looked shocked, probably because she had seen it. He opened his mouth, to tell her off. But she spoke first.

 **"** **Don't make a repeat Fillmore. We're fighting this together"**

 **"** **It's dark Ingrid. Real bad. Not meant to be shared,"** he answered grimly. He did not want to share these kinds of emotions.

And most of all, he wanted to deflect her from these kinds of feelings.

Her voice filled with fear she asked:

 **"** **Fillmore. We both know we have bad things hidden in our past. Share. Aren't we supposed to be friends?"**

He hated making her feel like that. Like they weren't as close as they thought. But racism was not something he wanted to bring up.

Most of all, he was afraid of her reaction to it.

Being real, it was nothing more than mindless "kidschatter".

If he told her the true story and his own feelings about it, she could simply call him too touchy.

If she didn't understand the significance of skin colour subjects, to him, now that was something he might not be able to deal with.

And that was even looking past the fact, that walking down the hallway, hands in hands, would probably be too weird for her. They were simply too different

His entire face glazed over as he fell back into the pit of memories.

That truly made her worry.

 _What can I do to make him understand, that I only want to help?_

She was just about to tell him off for withholding again, when he spoke up.

 **"** **Something went down in 6. Grade. Bad things."**

He chose spill his guts in front of her. Hopefully she would neither overreact, or dismiss it.

It was something of importance to him.

She simply looked at him, with an appreciative glance. He could look into those beautiful, green eyes forever.

 **"** **Go on. I'm here"** she simply said.

 **"** **I'm a black"**

A simple and easy statement. It alone would set the theme of the coming conversation.

Her eyes widened. She now understood why he was apprehensive to talk about this.

Racism. And she just pushed him to talk about it. She gently placed a hand on his thigh, to show her support.

A light bulb went on inside Ingrid's head. A possibility to strengthen their bond.

 **"** **Nope. You are a human,"** she said with a small smile around her lips.

She initiated eye contact, and he did not drop it.

His left eyebrow raised a bit in unspoken appreciation. His smile widening the longer they sat like that.

Words were not needed anymore. They had dealt with the dreaded conversation, in the best possible way. They both relaxed and looked away from each other. Her hand retreated from his leg.

 **"** **Ther's more to it Ingrid,"** He said, with the pretence of wanting to fulfil what he had started. Although she did not allow that to happen.

 **"** **No Fillmore. There is not. You are a human, like O'Farrell, Vallejo, and me. End of story,"** she finished forcefully. Wanting him to understand she was on side, no matter what.

A comfortable silence stretched between the two persons. Neither wanting to break this serenity, nor bring up more hurting feelings.

Inside Fillmore's head, a battle raged. Do or do not, was the question that acted as a catalyst to the war.

Ingrid Third just proved to him that she was open-minded.

The major question was then, would she even want him. He was no prime example of human goodwill and kindness.

 **Neither is she!** Something inside him screamed. He froze right then and there.

He was going too…

 **"** **Hey. Wakey Wakey. Ya zoning out on me here"**

He was brought back from his stupor with a clear mind. He heard the concern in her voice as clear as day.

He briefly glanced into her big green eyes. They too shone with concern and fear.

 **"** **Sorry Third. Just thinking a bit. Nothing big. Seriously."**

She did not appear to believe that statement. He let out a small chuckle at her righteous distrust of those words.

 **"** **Talk. Please…"** she was going to continue that statement, but he broke her off.

 **"** **I love you Ingrid."**

Silence stretched once again. He continued to look at the lifeless wall. His confidence was draining at a record pace. No answer means a definitely no.

He felt something stirred in his peripheral vision.

 **"** **As in… Love love, or friend love?"** she asked with a voice thick with emotion.

He could chicken out. He could make everything right. He could… be honest with the person that meant the most to him in this world.

 **"** **Love love"** he clarified. Expecting a loud rejection, he mentally prepared himself for what was going to happen tomorrow.

He would leave safety patrol, join the mini golf club, and she would get a new partner.

He felt two arms embracing him. He turned to look at his best friend, and was met with those green eyes. Slightly watery. And the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face.

She was beaming with joy. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening.

She cut him off.

By kissing him.

His mind was overloading. Her eyes closed, and his followed suit.

The kiss was chaste and simple. But he felt everything. The softness. The smoothness. The emotions.

He gave in and kissed back, even going so far, as to part his lips slightly. She took the cue, and did the same. He returned the embrace, and their tongues touched.

Perfect.


End file.
